


Light from the Lost

by stellahibernis



Category: Dark Is Rising Sequence - Susan Cooper
Genre: Friends to Lovers, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, Magical Memory Loss, Post-Canon, mostly fluff tbh
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-13
Updated: 2020-06-13
Packaged: 2021-03-04 06:47:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,220
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24699307
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stellahibernis/pseuds/stellahibernis
Summary: Will and Bran reconnect more than a decade after the summer in Wales and victory over the Dark.
Relationships: Bran Davies/Will Stanton
Comments: 4
Kudos: 27





	Light from the Lost

**Author's Note:**

> I recently decided to read these books again, caught feels, and needed somewhere to put them.

_ And one go alone. _

At first, it had seemed such an innocuous phrase, easy to understand, Will mused, distracted from the book he’d been trying to read. The library was quiet as always, stuffy in the summer heat, with dust slowly drifting in the air, visible in the shafts of light lancing through the curtains. He’d thought he’d understood the meaning behind the words that summer when he’d been just twelve years old and yet ancient at the same time, when the struggle of Light and Dark that had lasted through centuries had come to close. It had looked easy enough to parse; there’d been six of them that had completed the tasks required to acquire the Things of Power, six of them destined to stand around the Tree when it had ended. Five of them had gone back to their lives, and Merriman had finally, after thousands of years spent in the world, gone to the other side along with the rest of the Old Ones.

All of them were now gone, all except Will, and there lay the double meaning of the phrase, one he’d understood only years later, as the knowledge of what it meant to be the only one who remembered, the only one with knowledge of what had passed got etched right into his bones. He was also one who went alone, in the end.

He’d seen the Drews occasionally over the years, and even now kept in regular contact with Jane. The siblings remembered they’d gotten to know him through their Great Uncle, but nothing more of the circumstances. At least the trust they’d built by the time everything had ended in Wales had lasted. They were friends for life, and sometimes Will felt wistful about their lost memories, but it wasn’t painful for him to have this barrier between them. There had always been a degree of separation between them, and it wasn’t too different even now.

It was different when it came to Bran. They’d become close during the quest for the Harp when they’d defied the Grey King and learned of Bran’s heritage, their friendship true and fast afterward. The next summer they’d picked up where they’d left off, grown even a tighter bond, and had been able to act in sync without needing to talk first. After they’d returned from the Tree, the rest of Will’s vacation on the farm had flown past. They’d been close as ever, he’d been happy during those days, and yet it hadn’t been the same. It had hit him full on when he’d returned home, the knowledge that all those crucial moments shared, especially their journey through the Lost Land, had lost a lot of their meaning now that he was the only one who remembered.

He’d gone back to Wales only once more, on a holiday the following year, but Bran had happened to be away the entire time, somewhere to play his harp, and Will hadn’t known if he’d been sad or relieved. After that, he’d always had other plans for holidays and as years had passed, he’d grown to live with the loss that had come with the victory of Light, the burden he now had to bear.

Something pricked at the back of his mind, his Old One senses alerting him, rousing him from the reverie he’d fallen in. Will glanced around, then froze and stared.

It had been over a decade, but there was still a myriad of familiar things, things Will hadn’t consciously remembered, but now knew his mind had kept safely tucked away only to call them up now. The deliberate choice of only black and white clothes. The unusual paleness, the hair so white it was almost silver. The challenging, almost arrogant tilt of the head, a defense against the world that had always called him odd. It was Bran, as if summoned there by Will, materialized out of his memories, except Will had never seen him like this, all grown up.

He stared, held motionless as if under a spell, arrested in the moment and unable to do anything, not even to stand up or call out. There was no need, though, because Bran turned toward him and paused, obviously having seen Will even though his eyes were hidden with black glasses even in the dimness of the library and hence it wasn’t clear what he was actually looking at.

Bran recovered faster, he hesitated only for a second before he was moving again, this time striding toward Will, a grin breaking on his face. He pulled the glasses off, revealing the tawny eyes that were just as Will remembered, and with that final recognition he found he could move, scrambling up from behind his desk to greet Bran.

It had been over a decade, and yet it was as if no time had passed at all, it was so easy to fall into chatter and laughter. Will soon gathered his things, because it was clear they’d be far too noisy for the library. He was glad suddenly he had nothing pressing to do, and Bran waved his concerns away, he hadn’t come there for any particular purpose that day, he’d just been bored.

It was a wonderful day, the sun was bright up in the cloudless sky, so they ended up going to the park, eating ice cream and sitting on the grass, talking of what had been going on in their lives since they’d parted. Turned out they’d been studying at the same college for a year already, they just hadn’t happened upon each other. Will was studying history and archeology, following in Merriman’s footsteps, the career a natural expansion of the knowledge he possessed as an Old One. Bran had an eye on a career in journalism. It probably wasn’t what his friends and family in Wales had expected of him, but Will thought it suited him. There was a drive in him to find and tell the truth, and it would be a good way to fulfill his determination to help in the world of men where Light and Dark no longer battled, even though he no longer remembered making such a decision.

Hours flew by, and Will was happier than he remembered being in a long while.

* * *

It didn’t exactly shock Will that they ended up falling in bed together at the end of the day. He hadn’t known it then, but as he’d grown up and into himself, he’d become aware that part of what he’d felt for Bran during their two relatively short holidays had been budding attraction. There’d been a lot more than that, the true friendship and trust, but there’d been the crush that he hadn’t consciously recognized. Becoming aware of it had helped him understand why every detail of Bran had been etched so deeply into his memories.

By now Will had come to terms with himself, with who he was and what he wanted. When he’d first seen Bran in the library, he hadn’t expected it would lead to this, he’d just hoped to reconnect with a friend, but as they spent the afternoon together, he’d understood the potential to expand their relationship into new directions. He was good with people, in part due to being an Old One, and Bran, at least when it came to Will, didn’t really hide. He clearly took his sexuality in stride, but then again from a young age he’d become used to being different from what was seen as a norm, and so yet another thing probably hadn’t fazed him that much at all. Now together, they’d been in a right mindset to skip over the awkwardness and to take the leap into new.

What did surprise Will was just how right it felt, lying there together. He hadn’t expected it to be complicated, exactly, but neither had he expected to suddenly feel as if something in his life had been shifted into its correct place. The only comparable feeling he could remember was the morning of his eleventh birthday when he’d found out who he really was and learned of the task he had to carry out. He grinned at the ceiling at the thought. He was probably overreacting due to the afterglow with the comparisons, but he didn’t particularly care. He was going to enjoy this moment, for as long as it lasted.

He turned to his side, looking at Bran who was stretched out on his stomach, probably not asleep yet even though he was loose and relaxed. As soon as Will laid eyes on him he wanted to touch, and he didn’t even try to check the instinct, just ran his palm down over Bran’s back. In the low evening light of his apartment the contrast of his hand against Bran’s skin, almost translucent in its lack of color, was even more pronounced.

Bran shifted and squinted at Will with one eye, the other buried in the pillow, his smile fully visible. He let out an appreciative sound, and Will kept running his hand over his back, up and down, in a slow, even rhythm. They were silent for a while, just looking at each other, still unable to stop smiling the way they had been since they’d met in the library. Finally Bran pushed himself up to lean on his elbows, drowsiness softening his expression.

“Memory is a funny thing,” he said, and it was good that Will had trained himself to keep his composure, because his heart sped up only a little due to Bran leaning against him, even when the statement felt all too loaded despite Bran’s light tone.

His voice came out steady, even casual. “How so?”

“Up until earlier today, those two vacations we spent together had faded to the back of my mind, so much so that I didn’t often think of them, and yet now my memories are so bright, as if from yesterday. It seems unlikely that it should be so.”

Will knew the truth in Bran’s words, it had been the work of the High Magic that had helped him forget, not only the fight against the Dark, but also things connected to it. It appeared that now that there was a reminder, some of the haze had cleared. He flopped down on his back, stretching for a second.

“Guess there’s only room for so many things at once in your head,” Will said, and grinned when Bran shoved him, the rough patches caused by playing the harp tickling Will’s skin.

“I’m glad you’re not that different from what I remember,” Bran said, and settled down again, close and obviously intending to sleep right there.

“Me too,” Will said, and if it was more heartfelt than perhaps warranted by everything Bran remembered, he didn’t question it.

* * *

As Will had grown up, there had been less and less days when he was just Will Stanton, the way there’d been in the early years after he’d come into his power. It had taken a while to solidify, for the pieces of his identity to fit together, but they did now, making a cohesive whole. It made it hard sometimes to connect with people, and he’d feared it might be even worse with Bran, considering the strength of their former connection and being continuously aware of what they’d lost, but it turned out it wasn’t like that. It was strange how little Will ended up missing being able to discuss what they’d been through together, the reality of it a complete opposite of what he’d expected. It had made sense to expect it to be difficult, because even though he’d dealt with it easily enough with everyone else, he’d always been conscious of the divide between him and them, while with Bran they’d crossed over it, making the loss of him after the victory and his subsequent memory loss that much harder to deal with.

Bran was much the same as he’d been, he still habitually kept his shields up, was cautious among other people because experience has taught him they would in all probability be rude at the very least, if not outright hostile. There was the familiar spark of fury that made him face any negativity head on, but it had refined over years. Bran didn’t explode in anger these days; instead he directed it into energy that allowed him to work against injustice. Will sometimes lingered on the saying that pen was mightier than a sword; how Bran had once done an important, crucial deed with a single stroke of a sword, but that in time he might do even more with his pen, if he wielded it the way Will believed he would.

They still fit together, and as days and weeks of the summer passed, Will found out it ran deeper than he’d predicted. Somehow the way they’d connected during those few precious days they’d shared still held true even though only one of them remembered, their very natures were such that just being together, talking of nothing important, or sometimes of the very important things that happened around the world, was more satisfying than any other relationship Will had ever had. He was aware that destiny had tied them together in a very real sense, but he’d thought it wouldn’t last beyond fulfilling their tasks. Yet it seemed the bonds created were less breakable than anyone, even the Old Ones, had expected.

* * *

“Have you told your family?” Bran asked on a hot Saturday afternoon when they were once more in the park, lazing about in the shadow of a big tree.

Will stared at the canopy of leaves above him, the play of green in the sun. He knew what Bran was asking, not necessarily about them, but of Will and his life. It was funny, he’d dealt with it, he knew there was nothing wrong with himself, Bran, or anyone else, but it still wasn’t a simple matter to talk of it to his family, even when he knew all about their compassionate hearts and sense of what was right.

“I mentioned we’d reconnected, but nothing more specific. I’m fairly sure Mum’s already plotting to invite you to visit, by the way. And in general, I told Steve, years ago, when I needed to say it.”

“How’d it go?” Bran asked. There was definitely a complicated undertone in his voice, and with that Will began to understand why he’d started this conversation.

“It was good, he’s been the same as ever. I think the rest of them would too, and yet I haven’t said anything. I’m sure Paul knows, though, and Barbara, at least. And they never ask me about settling down like they do with James, but that just might be that they don’t think I’m the type to do so. That one I’ve heard a few times.”

Bran leaned closer so that he came to Will’s field of vision. He’d removed his glasses at some point even though it was brighter than he generally liked, and his gaze was thoughtful and steady for a second. “No,” he finally said, “you’re definitely not the type to just settle for anything.”

There was a lot behind those words, things they hadn’t yet said aloud and probably wouldn’t for a while yet, but Will believed they’d get there. He reached out and lightly squeezed Bran’s forearm, quickly since they were out in the open, even though no one was very near them.

“I told Jane, too, some years ago,” Will continued.

“You’ve kept in touch?”

“Fairly regularly, yeah. Not as much with her brothers, I hear from them mostly through her.”

Bran rolled down on his back next to Will, and it was clearly an attempt to avoid looking at him. Will turned his head and studied his profile, the pale cheek taking a bit of hue from the green light under the tree, but not making him appear sickly, the fine white lashes visible this close, the frown of thought at his brow.

“I told my Da, a few years ago,” Bran finally said. Will had wondered about it since he knew how strict Owen Davies was about his religion, and couldn’t imagine it had been an easy thing. “I was angry at the time,” Bran added, which explained a lot. Will had suspected there would have needed to be some kind of a trigger for the discussion to happen.

“How did he take it?”

“Both kind of like I expected and not at all.” Bran finally looked at Will again. “At first he didn’t say anything, just stared at me, and when he finally moved he left for the Chapel. Stayed there the whole night. When he came back he didn’t mention it, and clearly tried to be as if everything was as it had been but it was stilted. We don’t talk much, these days.”

“I’m sorry.”

Bran shrugged. “It is what it is. Never was easy with him.”

They lay for a while longer under the tree, as close as was safe in a public place in broad daylight. Finally Will spoke. “Let’s go get ice cream.”

Bran blinked, and then seemed to shed the last of the lingering dark mood, smiling brightly again. “Let’s.”

Once they’d gathered their things and were walking toward the shops, Bran gently elbowed Will on the side. “Terrible of you to use my sweet tooth to your advantage.”

There were many things that Will could have said to that, light and humorous, but what ended up popping out was terribly sincere, “I just want you to be happy.”

Bran glanced at him, his head tilting even though Will couldn’t see his eyes behind the dark glasses, and a slight flush rising to his cheeks. “You’re not doing too bad a job about it,” he said after a pause.

* * *

It was raining, had been since the morning, and they spent a large part of the afternoon curled up at the opposite ends of Will’s couch, reading. It was cozy and comfortable, and Will liked to think it was an early look into what the fall days might be like, when the weather would get colder but they’d still be together. He reached out to take a drink from his mug but found it empty, and looked up to ask if Bran also wanted another cup of tea, only to see he wasn’t reading anymore, but was instead resting his head on the back of the couch and looking at Will, a slight smile playing on his lips.

“What?” Will asked, but smiled too, the happiness still infectious, even after weeks spent together.

“I was just thinking. You know, some years after that summer we spent together, when I’d figured myself out, I wondered about you, and if that was when I started to understand myself.” Bran shrugged, and picked his book up again. “It’s not that deep. But I do think it’s a bit funny, when I said you were uncomplicated that one time, I was more right than I truly knew.”

Bran returned to reading, and it was now Will’s turn to stare at him. He knew exactly what memory Bran referred to, and it hit him hard now, the impossibility of it.

“I’ll go make some more tea,” he said, a good excuse for him to retreat for a moment. Bran hummed, not looking up, apparently unaware of the sudden turmoil Will found himself in.

While he waited for the water to heat up, he considered and remembered. All of the memories concerning the tasks he’d needed to complete to ensure the triumph of Light were carved in his mind, but especially those of the summer days spent in Wales, the last stretch of the long battle. Their excursion to the Lost Land had only taken some hours, but it shone especially bright among it all. After Merriman had been prevented from joining them, the responsibility had rested on him and Bran, and perhaps because of it they’d fused together even more tightly than they’d already been before that. It had been the final seal to their connection, the victory reached through their combined efforts. Will remembered the completion of every task throughout the journey, but also more than that. He remembered the more mundane moments, the discussions they’d had, the teasing and the friendship.

He hadn’t thought Bran would remember any of the specifics of that trip, even if the strength of the connection forged then still lingered. He’d believed every detail of their time in the past was so entangled to what they’d been there for, that the High Magic should have obscured it all. He knew this was how it generally worked, knew it was why Jane didn’t remember witnessing the construction of the Greenwitch nor their trip to the Bearded Lake anymore. Yet Bran remembered the discussion, even if he didn’t remember where they’d had it.

Will remembered sitting on the golden horse, the cheers from the crowd, the rose he’d snatched from the air, caught in the excitement. He remembered Bran’s teasing, him turning serious the next moment. The words exchanged belonged to that moment, to that place in his mind, and it was disorienting to wonder what kind of a frame it had in Bran’s mind, with the memories of the Lost Land gone. Even more disorienting was to wonder what did it mean he remembered this detail he shouldn’t have been able to.

The water had heated, and Will poured it over the tea, watching as it turned into the familiar golden brown as flavor steeped in. There was nothing that he could do but wait and see, he knew. He couldn’t ask about it, not without causing Bran distress or confusion at the very least, and the instinct that warned him of danger was quiet. Whatever was happening, it wasn’t bad, even if it was unexpected.

He took the filled mugs out, sat back down, and picked his book up again. He even managed to focus on it, after a while, and the rest of the day was as normal as any of them.

* * *

“Do you have a needle and thread somewhere?” Bran asked, inspecting his shirt. “One of the buttons is coming loose.”

Will directed him to the correct drawer, and then went to the kitchen to start on the breakfast. He hummed as he measured the coffee, took out the orange juice, and sliced some bread to be toasted. He glanced at the door when he heard Bran, and then paused, suddenly worried. When he’d left Bran to his task, everything had been normal, calm, but now he looked even paler than usual, his mouth turned down and a frown between his brows. He’d put on his dark glasses, something he usually didn’t do inside.

“I have to go,” Bran said.

“Is something wrong?”

“No, I just remembered something.” Bran tried a smile but didn’t really manage it.

“Okay,” Will said. He instinctively knew whatever was going on, he wouldn’t be able to talk Bran out of it, or even get him to talk, the way he was. He just had to trust it would be okay. “I’ll see you later.”

Bran nodded and left, Will listened to him pull on his shoes and close the door after himself. He wondered what might have caused the sudden change, worried of what it might mean, although not about the two of them. He didn’t think there was anything there to be concerned about.

He ate, even though he didn’t have much of an appetite, and drank too much coffee. After finishing he decided he’d go and run some errands, try to do something useful at least rather than just wallow.

In the bedroom he’d made the bed and finished dressing before he noticed anything was out of place; there was a blue bead on top of the dresser. Will remembered then he kept it in the same drawer as he did his sewing kit, almost forgotten when out of sight, but now that it was there, it was an inescapable fact it was the one Gwion had given him, just before the death of the Lost Land.

Bran’s words echoed again in his head, suddenly immensely more meaningful.  _ I just remembered something. _

* * *

Will didn’t sleep well at all the following night. He tossed and turned, falling into fitful sleep sometimes, and finally got up early, annoyed at being so worried when his brain said everything would most likely be fine in the end. He ate breakfast mechanically, and lingered over his tea. He didn’t usually drink coffee by himself, unlike Bran who seemed to run on the stuff, and hence never made it when it was just him. The contrast this morning had to many he’d enjoyed with Bran was all the starker for the simple detail.

Finally he decided to go out for a walk, to air out his head, to maybe allow himself to think of something else. He didn’t hold too much hope for the last part, especially since the morning was gray and gloomy, a little drizzle falling down, and hence unlikely to much improve his mood.

He didn’t get any further than the door to his apartment, because Bran was at the other side, reaching for the bell. He was all in black that day, contrasting his paleness, and his hair was curling, the tips damp and sticking together. He had his glasses still on even though they must have been fogged.

Will stepped back to let Bran inside, the door closing after them, and right then he was uncertain what was going on, with Bran’s face inscrutable behind his dark glasses. They stood there, just inside Will’s apartment, facing each other for a moment that felt much longer than it actually was, broken when Bran pulled his glasses off, his eyes coming to view. Will knew then.

Even though the amount of days they’d spent together across their lives wasn’t that many as of yet, Will had still seen many aspects of Bran, and now it felt like all of them had come together, because it was clear Bran remembered. Here was the aspiring journalist, eager to do his part to make the world better, to inform people, but now he fully understood what had set him on his path, he remembered what he’d been through and the choice he’d made, declining to go with his Father into eternity.

Will stared at him, taking in the subtle but undeniable change, the same as Bran was looking at him, no doubt aware he too knew they were now on the same level once more.

“I wasn’t supposed to remember, was I?” Bran asked.

“No, or at least, that was what I believed, that’s how I thought it would work.”

“And now? What does this mean?” There was no uncertainty in Bran, just readiness, the same Will remembered after he’d received Eirias and fully claimed his birthright.

“I think,” Will said slowly, allowing all parts of his perception, both those available to ordinary people and those of an Old One, open, “I think it means just that, that you remember, and that you now will have to live your life with the knowledge of everything that happened. There’s no peril awaiting, at least not of magical nature.”

“Just the human ones,” Bran said, smiling suddenly. “They’re plenty enough.” He stepped closer to Will, his expression softening. “It must have been tough for you, carrying it all alone, not being able to talk of what had happened with anyone.”

Will leaned against Bran, accepting the support he suddenly needed, because suddenly a load had fallen off of him and it made his legs wobbly. He clung tightly, wrapping his arms around Bran and allowed himself to settle into the knowledge that they had all of their shared history now back.

“I didn’t have much choice, did I? It wasn’t too bad,” Will said, and grinned at the disbelieving sound Bran made.

“You’re quite the martyr sometimes, you know.” Will grinned even wider, because Bran clearly tried to pretend being exasperated and it just came out fond.

* * *

Late that night, when they were in bed, warm and comfortably wrapped together, but not yet near sleep, Will decided they might as well start the discussion he was sure would continue for a long time, picked up every now and then, all through their lives perhaps.

“I’ve mostly found a balance for it by now,” he started, the words measured but not hesitant, he knew what he needed to say. “There’s no longer such a big difference between the regular me and the Old One, but it’ll always keep me separate, it means that I’ll always be different from everyone else.”

Bran hugged him a little tighter. “I remember. When we first met, around that Calan Gaeaf, sometimes you’d be just a boy like anyone, but sometimes it felt like I was suddenly looking at someone else, even though it was still you. It’s not so much like that anymore, although now that I know how to look, I can see both sides in you.”

“It’s not always easy, especially when I feel like I could do something to help with my knowledge and my skills, and yet I know in the long run it would just make things worse. I always have to consider the long term, and sometimes it can be cold, from a human perspective. Even from mine. It’ll probably take a lifetime to learn.”

Bran hummed, considering. “But you can still do everything in your power as a human, even if there is the other part in you, no matter how tightly it’s fused in you. That’s no small thing.”

“I know it’s not. But sometimes it damn well feels like it,” Will admitted.

Bran pushed himself up and leaned on his elbows, his white hair silver in the moonlight streaming through the gap in the curtains. “You said a lifetime to learn, but how long will that be? Will you be like the other Old Ones, live through centuries?”

“Possibly. I’m the Watchman after all, here to make sure Dark won’t make its way back.”

“Is that likely?”

“No. It was cast out of Time, after all, but we can’t be too careful, so I’ll have to linger for a while. I don’t know how long that’ll be.”

“Does it bother you? To have to stay when the rest moved on?”

Will smiled at the question. “Does it bother you to have stayed behind? The reasons for it apply to me as well, even if it’s not quite the same for us. I still had things to do here on Earth, reasons to live this life beyond that duty.”

“I see.” Bran settled back down, sliding his arm across Will’s body and holding on. “It does sound terribly lonely for you, potentially living for centuries.”

“I don’t know how it’ll be in the end, but I’m not lonely now. That’s worth a lot.”

They slipped into silence, and soon toward sleep. The last thing Will registered was feeling content, and the awareness that he was firmly on a path he wanted to walk forward on and that he didn’t have to make the whole journey alone.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading!
> 
> I'm variously active on [dreamwidth](https://stellahibernis.dreamwidth.org/), [tumblr](https://stellahibernis.tumblr.com/), and [twitter](https://twitter.com/stellahibernis).


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